


feeling small

by euadnes



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buck Begins Fix It, Cuddling, Eddie POV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s04e05 Buck Begins, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, feeling realization, someone please just give evan buckley a million hugs challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euadnes/pseuds/euadnes
Summary: Buck calls out of work after the factory fire. Eddie refuses to let him suffer alone.((I'm horrible at writing summaries. They're just really soft with each other, that's all you need to know))
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 21
Kudos: 416





	feeling small

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new here so if any information mentioned is wrong just know I tried! This is purely self indulgent, I don't even know how it got so long. Enjoy!

Buck’s absence from the firehouse that morning is the first thing Eddie notices. Even this early, his presence usually fills up the locker room with his animated discussions and infectious smiles, some of which pointed Eddie’s way. It was a pretty routine thing, and the loss makes him disoriented, pausing by the doorway like he doesn't recognize where he is. 

For anyone else it wouldn’t be strange, but Buck is usually one of the first people in for shift changes, next to Hen. They both live closest to the station. He spies Hen already putting away her duffle bag in the next room. Chimney is fashionably the last to arrive. But still no Buck. 

Eddie waits for ten whole minutes in case he’s late, even gets curious enough to check his phone for traffic updates. Nothing remotely dire in their immediate area, but then again, he would know that. The alarm stays silent. The last crewmate from the shift before jogs out after hanging up his turnout coat, then the house settles with mid-morning stillness. 

Eddie fidgets, eyes trained on the sunlit apparatus bay as the worry officially creeps in.

He takes the steps up to Bobby’s office two at a time and almost forgets to knock.

“Hey, Cap,” he greets, with one hand hanging from the door frame. “You hear from Buck, by chance? He hasn’t come in.”

Bobby smiles like he was waiting for Eddie to bound through the door and holds up his hands to quiet him.

“I know he’s not. Buck called in today.”

“What? Is he-?” Eddie doesn’t know how to continue, not even sure what he’s asking exactly. All sorts of scenarios pop into his brain in the few short seconds he has before Bobby answers. Jumbled images of Buck in a white hospital gown, blood dribbling from his slack mouth; horror stories from other paramedics over the course of the last god-awful year. _Oh no, what if it’s…_

“Nothing to worry about, trust me. He just needed a break.”

The word _finally_ goes unsaid but hangs in the air between them. Bobby gives him a reassuring smile, followed by a pointed glance and Eddie stops climbing the walls in his head long enough to take the hint. He goes back downstairs to finish changing. 

It eats at him for a little while. They very rarely have shifts where they are not working together. His absence reminds Eddie of the year before when Buck was still recovering, and something seizes in his chest a little. A flutter of panic that he can’t quite suppress. He pulls out his phone before he heads back upstairs where the rest of the team is. Tries, and fails, to act like he’s not worried as he shoots Buck a two worded question: 

**_You sick?_ **

The response comes back barely a minute later. Buck is texting in complete sentences so at least there’s that. 

**_I don’t have any symptoms, don’t worry. you and Chris are good_ **

**_Not what I meant. Are you okay?_ **

He doesn’t get an answer for a few minutes but it’s not like Buck is a lightning fast texter anyway. Eddie takes the brief break to finally make an appearance in the lounge. Hen’s already buried in a book and Bobby and Chimney have their backs to him in the kitchen. Then:

**_the past week finally caught up with me. just needed a day off_ **

That was perfectly understandable. If Eddie wasn’t worried, he’d be more relieved. Even after being cleared after the factory incident, Buck showed up to work less than a day later. That was over a week ago now. Since, Buck's shown up for every shift, working his hardest, if not harder. As if he didn’t have another close call with death, _again._ Physically he might be fine, but mentally…

Buck was strong, Eddie knew that. And he was finally getting help he needed, but Eddie couldn’t get that dead eyed stare out of his head. Buck sitting in the back of that ambulance, soaked to the bone, and looking more like the little kid he had been mourning earlier that day than anything. If Eddie had not been busy with Saleh, he would’ve been right at his side, cleaning the ash and grime off his face himself, the others be damned. Since they had all heard his story recanted to them, Eddie’s heart ached something fierce for his best friend. The fact also was, Eddie knew that look. He had probably seen it a hundred times on the faces of US soldiers, himself even, in the mirror, on the bad days. 

Buck wasn’t okay.

His phone is still in his hand when the next reply comes.

**_yeah i'm good_ **

_Bullshit,_ Eddie thinks. He stares down at the screen, plopping down on the nearest chair without taking his eyes off it. Three little dots appear below Buck’s last message, then disappear and return before vanishing entirely. He waits for a new message, sighs audibly when it doesn't come. Eddie feels eyes on him. Above her book, Hen watches him, obviously curious, but thankfully not asking. 

_Time and place._ He could leave it alone and worry himself into a worse mood and potentially have it affect his job performance, or he could get it over with and maybe piss off his best friend. Self-preservation wins over a brief battle; he doesn’t need to embarrass himself further with this crew by making a fuss.

**_Alright. I’m heading over there after work. Let me know if you want me to pick up anything._ **

There’s no reply to that at all, but he’s fine with that. As long Buck knows someone out there cares, that’s enough for Eddie. Guiltily, he recalls his past attitude towards Buck’s bad moods. All the times he told him to suck it up and move on, or to quit whining, all while ignoring the hurt looks he got in return. He knows he’s grown since then and realizes that attitude probably wasn’t healthy. Almost drowning in that well gave him a new perspective. He just hopes Buck will accept his help and not take his past behavior to heart. 

The rest of the shift drags on. A haze settles mid-day and lingers until sundown, but the air is dry and warm. They get enough calls to keep his mind occupied and before he knows it, the next crew is waiting for them when they back the rig in. 

_Thank god for twelve hour shifts._

Eddie showers and changes quickly, even making it out before Hen has a chance to change. 

“Tell Buck we love him and hope he feels better soon,” she says, landing a hand on his arm as she passes. 

Eddie nods, waving to the others as he goes. He’s in his truck before he realizes he never told anyone he even talked to Buck.

Carla has Christopher for a couple more hours so Eddie goes straight to Buck’s apartment. If there is the slightest chance Buck has Covid, he doesn’t need to bring his son here and risk exposure.

He knocks on the door out of politeness but fingers the key in his pocket in case there’s no answer. Eventually, he hears a muted grunt and someone clearing their throat before the shuffling of socked feet approach the door from inside. He’s not prepared for the sight that greets him. 

Buck is wearing a dark hoodie and sweats, which even for the warm night is impressive, if not concerning. He soon gets why, the apartment is cooler than the hallway, A/C on blast. Dull grey blue eyes barely make it to meet his and Eddie gets a half assed attempt at a smile that falls short of a grimace. The pink birthmark above his eye stands out in stark contrast to his pale face and Eddie doesn’t like the way any of this looks. Not one bit. 

“You didn’t actually have to show up,” Buck says, voice like gravel. He clears his throat again, eyes sliding off somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Nonsense,” he returns. It’s the first word he’s spoken, but to be fair, seeing Buck this down and out is a shock. At least after his leg injury the kid could still muster up a smile. 

He pushes past Buck without waiting for an invitation. Eddie expected to see takeout containers and dirty socks on every surface, but the apartment is in good shape. Glancing at the couch, he sees a pillow from Buck’s bed and some blankets, bottles of juice, and a Hydroflask. _At least he got himself out of bed this time,_ he thinks, satisfied. The TV is obviously on but set at a suspiciously low volume.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was just dozing.” 

Was the reply too easy, or was Eddie just overanalyzing everything he saw?

Buck walks toward him now with one hand tucked in his hoodie pocket and the other itching his jaw. The painful grimace makes another appearance. 

“How was work?”

“Nothing to write home about,” Eddie says casually. Then, at last, “How are you feeling?”

Buck answers with a heavy sigh and half a shrug. Eddie has to mentally root himself to the floor so as to stop himself from going to his friend and examining him like his medic instincts were screaming at him to do. There’s something in Buck’s eyes, other than the absence of color, that unsettles him. A twinge of emotion that suggests he’s barely holding it together. 

To distract them both, Eddie instantly goes into dad-mode. 

“You eat anything, yet? Wanna order in? Or I can cook us up something.”

Finally, fucking _finally,_ the first hint of a real smile tugs at his lips. “I think your cooking is gonna do more harm than good, Eds.”

“Cute,” Eddie says, letting the warmth from Buck using the nickname calm his heart. “I think you’ve been hanging out with my kid too much.” He makes for the kitchen anyway, searching the cabinets at random. 

Buck follows him a couple of steps before leaning his tired body against the counter. 

“Where is Christopher?” 

“With Carla. He had online classes today, and after school they like to go to the park.” He searches as he talks, tells Buck more about how Chris is handling his class work and how great Carla has been for him since the lockdown started. Finally, he finds what he is looking for. A box of Chamomile tea he had stashed here eons ago the last time Buck wasn’t feeling well. It’s a favorite of his and Christopher’s. His abuela swore by the stuff, always giving it to a younger Eddie when he was sick or feeling down. Eddie did the same with his son and bought Buck a box just in case. As expected, Buck had neglected it since the last time Eddie forced it on him and the box had been shoved to the back of the shelf, gathering dust. 

He remembers the empty green juice bottles he saw on the coffee table and is grateful Buck had enough sense to keep his fluid intake up.

“How about I order some pizza? I also passed that taco truck on the way over. We haven’t been by there in some time.”

When he doesn’t get an answer, Eddie turns from the sink where he’s filling up the kettle (that Eddie had to buy him, by the way, the kid just microwaved water in a mug like some helpless frat boy) and glances at his friend.

“Buck?

Buck looks withdrawn, exhausted and Eddie almost thinks he didn’t hear anything he just said, until Buck opens his mouth to speak, eyes suggesting he’s in another place entirely.

“Have you ever felt on the verge of a panic attack for like, weeks, and then one day it finally breaks on you like a giant wave in the middle of the night?”

Eddie’s stomach clenches at the way Buck says it, like he’s trying to play it off like a joke but failing miserably. Behind him there’s a light splashing sound and he has to reach back to stop the kettle from overflowing further. With that done, he faces Buck across the island counter. 

“Sorta, yeah.” It’s the truth, and he suspects Buck knows that. He doesn’t just open up to anyone like this, neither of them do. “Is that what happened last night?”

Buck lets out a lungful of air like he’d been holding it in. His eyes are wide and glassy as he gives a tiny nod. 

Eddie suppresses a sigh, heart sinking. “Buck, why didn’t you call me or something?”

“What, at two a.m.? You serious?”

“Absolutely, man. You know if you need me, whenever, I’m here.”

Buck chews on his lip in lieu of a response. When his eyes flicker up to Eddie’s, he sees a touch of vulnerability there that makes him feel almost as if his heart is cracking. 

“Did you talk to Dr. Copeland today?’ He already knows the answer but wants to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

“She’s heard me whine about my family all week, she’s probably sick of me.”

“That’s not how that works, Buck, and you know it.”

It feels almost hopeless. He knows that when Buck gets on his self-depreciating spiral it’s generally a one-way road, but he refuses to give up now. Not while his friend is in such obvious pain right in front of him. 

“You wanna talk to me about it?”

He can see Buck struggling with his answer, lips twitching and red rimmed eyes shifting around the room to land on anything but Eddie.

“I’ll take that tea, first, if you don’t mind,” he says in a small voice. 

Eddie obliges, making sure to catch his eye with a reassuring smile before turning back to the sink. It would’ve hurt a lot less if he got some smartass answer instead, he realizes, but recognizes the progress for what it is. He secretly hopes that Buck will feel braver when his back is turned, but he stays quiet. While they wait, Eddie airdrops him a picture of Christopher, telling him about the socially distanced science fair they attended earlier that week. That earns him another small smile. There’s some semblance of life returning back to his face now. 

“I’m ordering a pizza,” he announces, while he still has his phone out. 

“Okay.”

“Everything on it?”

Buck makes a face.

_Go simpler. His stomach must not feel good._

“Cheese and pepperoni?”

“Yeah.”

They move to the couch to wait, Eddie with tea in hand. He makes note of the pile of blankets kicked to one end and the way the air unit hasn’t since stopped blowing since he walked in. 

“Hey,” he says, taking Buck by surprise and crowding the younger man as he sits down. Buck looks up at him with some apprehension as Eddie places a gentle hand to his forehead. He struggles not to focus on the way his blonde eyelashes flutter at the touch and frowns at the way Buck’s skin is hot to the touch. 

“Did you know you have a fever?”

His eyes go wide at the words and Eddie can guess what he might be thinking. 

“It’s probably nothing. You just got yourself worked up or something. It happens.”

“You don’t think it’s -?” He genuinely looks afraid. 

They both look at each other for a moment, not even wanting to finish that sentence.

“I shoulda wore a mask when you came in here. God damnit,” Buck dumps his head in his hands, falling back into the couch cushions.

Eddie pats him on the knee, sighing, and heads to the closet where he knows Buck keeps a medical kit and thermometer. He takes his temperature with his head still burrowed into the couch and has to sigh again. _Damnit._

“100.5”

Buck looks terrified.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He really deserves a reward for how many times he’s been able to stop himself from rolling his eyes in Buck’s presence this week. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”

“What about Christopher? He was over here the other day. Oh my god, and Carla –”

“That was three days ago. I doubt we need to worry.”

Buck fists his hands in his hair, eyes feverish and bright.

“Listen, hey –” Eddie sits down next to him, knees bumping together as he turns to get Buck’s attention, grabbing the arm closest to him so that they could see each other.

“I’ll give Carla a call, ask her to pack an overnight bag and take Christopher to Pepa’s. I’ll explain to them what’s going on and then we can hunker down for a night and see how it goes. Sound good?”

Faintly, he feels sort of self-conscious. The way his tone automatically drops to soothe him is bordering uncharted territory, but he can see that Buck really needs to hear reason, no matter what form it comes in. His face feels warm, and he’s thankful that Buck isn’t really looking at him.

“Are you feeling any other symptoms? Nausea, loss of taste or smell?”

Buck takes time to focus, struggling with his breath. After a minute, he shakes his head. 

Skeptical, Eddie repeats, “No nausea? You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I just don’t have an appetite for anything.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” It’s the least surprising, after the night he’s had. Eddie grabs the mug and places it in Buck’s hands. “Drink this.”

While he drinks, Eddie goes into the kitchen, giving his friend space while he calls Carla and his aunt. They are both perfectly happy to help him out and Eddie has to send a quiet prayer, thankful to have such great people in his life. 

“Carla sends her love, as with my aunt. Oh, and Hen,” he tells Buck as he comes back. “And probably Chimney. And Bobby.”

Eddie catches a glimpse at an embarrassed smile as he settles into the couch. He checks the ETA of their dinner on his pizza app before turning his attention to the TV. Some twenty-year-old sitcom rerun plays on mute, and Eddie turns the volume back up while he flips through the guide. Soon he finds a crime thriller and changes it without asking, glad that they have the same taste in movies. 

Gradually, he senses Buck relaxing next to him, clutching his mug between two hands, and taking small sips every now and then. Heat presses in to where Eddie’s arm rests above his shoulders and Eddie can’t help but worry. He just feels so _warm._

Before they know it, the doorbell rings. Eddie pulls his LAFD mask out of his jeans pocket just in case, but the delivery driver is already bounding down the steps by the time he opens the door.

“Good thing I ordered an extra large. This should last us a few days, at least,” he jokes as he brings the food inside. 

Buck whips his neck around at that, and Eddie is pleased to be recipient of a classic Buckley family glare. 

“Days!?”

“Yeah, we’re a quaran _team_ now, Buckaroo,” he says, flashing his teeth.

The glare eases but doesn’t fully disappear.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t have Covid.”

“Still hate you.”

Eddie snickers. 

“I’ll give Bobby a call tomorrow and see if we can get tested. And maybe some PTO.”

Buck throws his head back against the couch, groaning. 

_There’s the drama queen I know and love,_ he thinks fondly. He brings the pizza box over to the couch after grabbing some plates and a beer from the fridge.

“So, at the thought of spending a few days locked up with me, you’re acting like I asked you to scrub down the shower room. Really?” 

“It’s not you. It’s the thought of being locked up at all,” Buck says, taking the offered plate. “You know I hate not working.”

Eddie nods, understanding. “Remember last year when we thought lockdown was only supposed to last a few weeks and you, me, and Christopher had that weeklong slumber party?”

“Yeah,” Buck smiles warmly. “That was pretty fun.”

“It’ll be like that. Except maybe with less funfetti cupcakes and pillow forts.”

“And no Christopher.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a given.” He has to admit, the thought of not seeing his son for even a short period of time makes his heart ache.

Buck must pick up on his thoughts. “God, Eddie, I can’t tell you how sorry –”

“Did you ask me to come over? No, I didn’t think so.” He tears a bite out of his pizza, hunger getting the best of him. “Now quit apologizing and eat your pizza”

Buck quietly obliges and they eat in silence for a while, attention mostly on the TV. They both manage to put away a few slices, which Eddie takes as a good sign. Sometimes the best thing a guy needs after an exhausting day is grease loaded cheese and processed meat. He hopes that would be enough to knock Buck into a food coma, but one glance over at his friend tells him otherwise. His eyes are locked, unfixed, on the TV, his face completely blank. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, nudging him with his knee. The movie is over and it’s not-as-good sequel has started playing.

Eddie picks the thermometer up from where he left it on the coffee table and hands it to him. Wordlessly, Buck takes it and hands it back after a quick read.

“Fever’s down.”

Buck breathes a sigh of relief, Eddie mirrors him. He checks his own temperature to be thorough, and it comes back normal.

“But I’m still staying over.”

“I can live with that,” Buck says. Eddie watches his face fall slightly, mouth twisting with his next words. “Sorry, I’m not that fun to be around.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have canceled your Netflix subscription. Now we’re subjected to watching shitty cable all night.”

“Eddie.”

“ _Buck,”_ he argues. Eddie doesn’t want to dish out the tough love schtick tonight, but maybe that’s what Buck needs. “Drop the pity party act, okay? Quit saying I don’t have to do this, or I don’t have to be here. Have you thought that maybe I want to?”

Buck’s still unsure, side eyes Eddie warily like he’s waiting to be insulted. 

“I _want_ to be here, Buck,” he says, and doesn’t leave it at that. “I’m worried about you.”

There it is. His bottom lip wobbles and Buck sucks it in like he’s trying to hide it. Unexpectedly, Eddie feels angry. He hopes he never has to meet Buck’s parents again, for he knows that the first words out his mouth will not be kind ones. It’s a wonder to him that Maddie and Buck turned out to be two of the kindest people he knew. But maybe that kindness was a result of the lack of warmth they grew up in, a way to cope with it all. From what Eddie understood, Maddie was the closest thing Buck had to an attentive parent. What an awful thing for both of them, he thought, for Maddie to be forced to bear such responsibility at a young age. For a younger Buck to not always have his sister to turn to all his life. 

The Buckley’s might not have foreseen the consequences of the way they treated their children, but Eddie couldn’t help but blame them, hate them even. They couldn’t see what he was seeing. A grown man who could best anyone in a physical challenge, overcome with anxiety and grief, trembling at Eddie’s side like a frightened child. A man who had been denied unconditional love for so long that his own trauma and stress made him physically ill. Who believed that no one could ever care enough to sit with him through the night, check on him, make him a damn cup of tea just because they _wanted to._

One look at Buck, and Eddie just couldn’t comprehend it. How could anyone not love him?

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, and reaches a hand for Buck like he’s some fragile, broken thing. It settles on his shoulder, thumbs at the worn fabric of his sweatshirt in a soothing gesture. 

“We’ve all been there, man. Hell I’ve been worse. When I lost Shannon, I mean...” He feels Buck’s eyes on him, studiously waiting. “It took me a while to come back from that, but I took the time to process it. We all deal with shit differently. You lost your brother, Buck. You’re allowed to grieve.”

When Buck finally speaks, it comes out a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t just lose him, Eddie. My family hid him from me. He was a whole person, a seven year old kid, with a bike and favorite toys and dreams. And my parents just pretended he never existed!” His voice breaks on the last word and Eddie helplessly watches as a tear rolls down one cheek. 

“H-how could they do that!? What if it was Maddie? What if it was _me_ ? Would they’ve just given all my stuff away and bury me down like I never existed? Who could do that to someone? Who could do that to their own _child_?” 

With every question Buck grows more and more emotional, bordering hysterics. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, much less say, except pull on the sweatshirt until Buck is colliding with his chest. He’s easy to manhandle this way. Burying his face into Eddie’s henley, he lets the older man pull him into a more comfortable position. It’s the only invitation he needs to let go in Eddie’s arms. 

All he can do is hang on as Buck shakes and sobs out years of anguish. The force of it frightens him. Christopher wasn’t even this inconsolable when his mother died. 

“I got you,” he finds himself murmuring as the sobs continue. “I’m here, I got you.”

He’s not gonna lie, when he planned to come over, Eddie expected to stuff Buck full of carbs and let him pass out, making sure he at least made it to bed first. Talk some if he needed to. A total mental breakdown was inevitable, he supposes, but no less shocking. More than anything he’s just grateful he’s here and Buck isn’t going through this alone. 

“Do you need me to call someone?” The words sound ridiculous the second they leave his mouth. Who would Buck possibly want to see in this condition? His therapist? “Do you want me to have Maddie come over?”

The sobs have stifled somewhat, replaced by high, wheezing breaths. “No,” Buck says, muffled. “I’m fine.”

Eddie chuckles. “Coulda fooled me.” He smooths Buck’s hair down. He didn’t bother to comb it back today, and the light curls brush through his fingers like feathers. 

Buck laughs as well, a bleak, wet sound, but it’s a good sign. It makes Eddie feel better, too. 

“She’s pregnant,” he sniffs. “I don’t want her getting sick.”

Eddie sighs. Leave it to Buck to worry about someone else when he’s having one of the worst days of his life. “‘Course.”

He still feels lost, out of his element. Even when Christoper, his own son, has episodes Eddie feels overwhelmed. This is different, somehow. Though he doesn’t know quite what to say and is a little more than worried, he’s content to just hold Buck while he rides out his pain. Maybe that’s all he needs, someone to pull him close instead of keeping him at a safe distance. 

With that thought in mind, he tightens his grip, moving one hand to rub up and down Buck’s back soothingly. 

For a while, Eddie just listens to him breathe. If Buck is still crying he can no longer tell. He feels the occasional shudder as Buck takes a deep breath, which Eddie encourages. His left hand still sifts through Buck’s hair, quietly marveling at the feel of it. 

“This is nice,” Buck says, so quiet that Eddie wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t paying close attention to his every breath. 

Eddie hums, not trusting his mouth to speak freely. Inside, he feels as if his heart is melting from growing too soft and warm, like chocolate. The Eddie Diaz from a year ago wouldn’t have been caught dead in this position. The guy he used to be after Shannon passed would sooner punch a guy out than let himself feel like this. 

Maybe Buck senses a change in him. He starts to pull away, even if Eddie barely loosens his hold, letting up just enough for Buck to sit up straighter. He’s suddenly very against the idea of Buck thinking Eddie doesn’t want to touch him. 

They smile at each other awkwardly, until Eddie breaks first. Buck just looks _wrecked._

“You’ve got snot, like, all over dude,” Eddie says, laughing. There’s a box of tissues on the table that he didn’t see before, and he hands the whole thing to Buck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says miserably, taking a tissue and rubbing at his face. 

Eddie holds up a hand before he goes any further. “No more apologizing.” Though he doesn’t think the crying is all Buck is apologizing for. Something feels off. Looking down, he quickly finds out what. His shirt sticks to him now, right above his belly button. He tries not to make a face. 

“I’m raiding your closet though.”

Buck laughs, genuinely, and nods. It seems like a good time to leave him alone to let him recover from any embarrassment, so Eddie at last let’s him go. Upstairs he grabs a fresh tee shirt and sweats from Buck’s things, thankful he’s the smaller one for once. 

The couch is empty when he comes back except for a small mountain of tissues. Eddie takes the time to clean up a little, even grabs a cold water bottle for Buck out of the fridge. He accepts it gratefully when he comes out of the bathroom, plopping heavily down on the couch. There’s something significant in the way he doesn’t hesitate to lean into Eddie’s side, and if Eddie’s heart hasn’t fully melted into a big puddle of goo, it does now. 

Buck’s head tilts and Eddie almost meets him halfway. They rest like that, Buck’s head on his shoulder, Eddie’s ear to the crown of his head. 

_This is it,_ he thinks, stunned. _This is all I need._

Eddie doesn’t even know what’s going on on the TV anymore. He hardly feels the need to pay attention, energy mostly spent on the man at his side. Buck breathes easy, body loose and wrapped up in a throw blanket. 

“Eddie?” 

That jostles him into focusing again. Did he almost just fall asleep?

“Yeah?”

For a second, Buck doesn’t say anything, and Eddie almost believes he _was_ dreaming. Then, “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

Eddie’s stupefied. Buck doesn’t need to thank him, if anything, Eddie should be thanking him for simply being a bright presence in his life. For welcoming him and Christopher to be a part of his. Something clicks. 

“You know you’re my family, right?” He speaks into golden feathers. “Me and Chris are so lucky to have you. Anyone would be. I’m just so glad that it gets to be us.”

Buck’s head burrows into his shoulder and Eddie reaches down, finds a pale stretch of wrist, and squeezes. He locates Buck’s pulse point easily, tunes into the frantic fluttering of his heartbeat. 

“Don’t ever think for a second you don’t have people who love you.”

_People. Me. I’m right here._

Then, so shyly, it breaks his heart, Buck whispers, “I love you, too. Both of you.”

His lips move on their own accord, pressing a firm kiss to Buck’s forehead. They’re well past saving themselves from embarrassment at this point. 

There’s a quiet huff beneath him, and Eddie can picture the soft smile. 

“Sorry I don’t think I’m up for any reciprocation right now, Eddie.”

Eddie stills, momentarily confused. _Oh._

Buck’s head tilts up. His eyes are barely open, clear blue slits still rimmed red. _How is he so beautiful?_

His mouth is _right there_. And while Eddie itches to close the distance between them, he doesn’t. “We don’t have to. Not tonight at least.” He tries for a smile. 

Buck settles for a different kind of kiss instead. He shifts his arm so that he can take Eddie’s hand, laces their fingers together and brings it to his mouth. Dry lips press into his knuckles, then further down, in the center. When he opens his eyes, Eddie can see his own affection reflected there. 

“Can we go to bed?” Buck murmurs, eyelashes fluttering as he stares down at their interlocked fingers. 

At this point, Eddie’s body is a live wire. He doesn’t think he could lie still if he tried. Not only that, but he came fully prepared to sleep on the couch. The implication of Buck’s tone is not lost on him; hopeful, careful. He needs Eddie. 

Eddie stands, slowly, drags Buck up with him until they’re toe to toe. There’s a pause when neither of them move, much less breathe, and then Buck is on him again, head falling into the side of his neck and Eddie taking most of his body weight. 

Eddie lets out a surprised huff, wrapping his arms around Buck, who’s apparently trying to make himself smaller in his embrace even though Buck has a couple inches on him. It’s endearing.

Maybe he takes Eddie’s silence the wrong way, and pulls back quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile. 

“I - sorry,” he shuffles, cheeks pink.

“What did I say about apologizing?” Eddie says, mostly serious. Then, because he can, “I like being with you like this.”

When Buck looks at him, there’s a bit of heat in his gaze.

“You should see me on a good night.”

“Yeah? Trying telling that to me when you’re not a walking snot rag.” He pushes Buck in front of him, turning him by the shoulders so the offended look on his face disappears. They turn out lights as they go, Eddie gets the TV.

When they reach the staircase, he makes sure Buck leads. He can’t pass up the view he gets on the way up.

“Why don’t you take me out on a date first?”

Buck stops three steps up, looks down over his shoulder, expression unreadable. 

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, and you better make it good! I’m difficult to please.” He makes a shooing motion, hustling the younger man to move. 

It’s Buck’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I bet.” He peels his hoodie off so that he’s just in a cream colored tee and sweats. “I’ll have you know, I’m one of, if not _the_ best date organizer in LA.”

“Is that so?”

“One time, for Abby, I arranged for a hot air balloon to take us over Griffith Park.”

Not that he would admit it anytime soon, but Eddie is slightly impressed. _Slightly._ “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

Buck’s face droops. “She had a family emergency. I barely had the chance to give her flowers.”

The way Buck sounds almost cartoonishly sad with his clogged nose and big eyes makes Eddie want to wrap him up and hold him. His own thinking startles him.

 _Boy, you’ve got it bad,_ he tells himself.

“I promise I wouldn’t ditch you, flowers or no flowers.” Eddie says, then gives Buck another small push. The way Buck lets him be manhandled without complaint is strangely thrilling. Eddie can’t keep his hands off him for more than a minute, now that he is more or less given permission to do so. _Speaking of._

Eddie eyes him as Buck starts to get under the covers. “I can take the couch, Buck. I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head, moving over and holding back the heavy comforter invitingly. 

Climbing into Buck’s bed is like diving off a cliff. Once he does it, there’s no backing out. He can’t see what’s on the other side, what’s waiting for him beneath the choppy water. But once he breaks the surface, he knows the relief will be worth it. 

Buck moves to envelop him once Eddie is settled, pulling him close so that they’re chest to chest, Buck’s arm draped heavily across his waist. 

“This okay?” he breathes. 

Eddie instantly relaxes. It’s been so long since he’s shared a bed with anyone, but this feels like the most natural thing in the world. Buck is safe, limbs wrapped around him, where Eddie can easily reach and know he’s okay.

_He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay._

“Just promise me you won’t drool,” he says, like a reflex.

Buck snorts, face burrowing into Eddie’s hair. He feels his lips quirk, maybe into a small kiss, who knows. 

“Won’t promise anything.”

Three words, spoken with a smile. Somehow, that’s enough for Eddie. He thinks of three more simple words, locks them away until a better time comes. Winds an arm around Buck’s torso while thinking them, hoping to get his point across.

There. Another brush of lips at his hairline, more purposeful. He breathes.

They sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit goes to the band Morning Show. I don't know how many times I listened to that song while writing this.  
> Come cry with me over Evan Buckley on tumblr: https://kananjarus.tumblr.com/


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